


tommy

by indiffrntnewt



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: I wrote this at 1am, M/M, Safe Haven, angsty, newt is still dead, not really newtmas but kind of newtmas, platonic!thominho, post tdc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:28:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24653116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indiffrntnewt/pseuds/indiffrntnewt
Summary: prompt by obrienfics on twitter: ok but imagine if when they were in the safe haven someone that wasnt newt called thomas 'tommy'[aka thomas having a breakdown when someone he doesn't know calls him tommy]a short, angsty oneshot i wrote in the middle of the night
Relationships: Minho/Thomas (Maze Runner), Newt/Thomas (Maze Runner)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 192





	tommy

Thomas wasn’t sure why the nickname meant so much to him. It was just a name, after all. When he thought about it, it had no real meaning. It was just a word, some vowels plastered together to say _hey, this is you._ A name was simply a way to tell people apart. Something that was given to you by other people and he had no actual influence on it.

Maybe that was exactly why it meant so much to him. 

It was _given_ to him, but not just given to him like his normal name had been given to him by WICKED. It was created out of fondness, of friendship, of love. Just a fun little play on his actual name, but it was still important and meaningful. It showed Thomas that he cared. That he liked him. That he wasn’t just messing around when he made promises, like many other people had. It was a sign of loyalty, of _trust_ , in a way.

At least, that’s what Thomas felt like. 

So when the boy, the young kid with curly hair like Chuck and bright blue eyes that reminded him so much of Teresa, called him _Tommy,_ he didn’t know how to reply at first. He just sat there, staring, his mind blank. 

It had been years since someone called him that. Minho found out after less than a week that he shouldn’t call Thomas by that, and Thomas knew everyone in the Safe Haven found out that day too -- it was pretty hard not to hear a shouting match on the beach, after all. Especially not if it ended in the two of them breaking down. Thomas was pretty sure that that unfortunate evening was the reason no one had called him Tommy since. There was the occasional ‘Tom’ and the playful ‘Tomtom’ from his friends, but never Tommy. 

Thomas was happy with it. For some odd reason, he felt in his heart that it was right that the only person to have called him that should remain Newt. He was sure he’d read the letter at least a hundred times by now, repeating it over and over again in his head. The paper was torn and fragile, the ink was starting to fade and it spent most of its time inside the necklace around his neck, but every once in a while, he’d take it out and read it. Just to remember him. His voice. His smile. His kind words. 

_Thank you for being my friend, Tommy._

It was the last time Newt had called him that, and the sentence still broke his heart every day. And so did the nickname.

“Hey, you can’t go there,” he said sternly to the young boy suggesting they’d explore the forest together. It was only early morning and Frypan had just brought them their breakfast, after which Minho complained they weren’t being fed enough and Frypan hit him on the head with a spoon. Thomas was simply watching them in slight amusement when the boy spoke up. 

“Why not?” The boy asked, a toothy grin on his face. Thomas was sure he’d heard his name, somewhere, but he couldn’t quite recall it at that moment. 

“It’s dangerous,” he said. “We don’t know what’s out there, and besides, you’re just a kid. Leave it to the adults.”

The boy simply rolled his eyes and smiled even wider. “Whatever, _Tommy_.”

Thomas could almost feel everyone at the table tense up at that. Beside him, Minho gripped his fork so tightly Thomas swore he could’ve broken it in half. 

He froze, a strange, cold feeling gripping his insides. The boy didn’t seem to have noticed, as he just continued eating with the grin still on his face. Thomas kind of wanted to reach out and punch him. 

A small touch on his arm snapped him out of it and he moved away as if he’d been burned. Minho was watching him intensely, his eyes full of pain. 

“Thomas -”

Thomas stood up, almost taking the ragged table cloth with him as he went. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized he was panting, his heartbeat twice as fast as usual, but all he could focus on were the young boy and the word replaying in his head. 

_Tommy. Tommy. Tommy._

Slowly, Newt’s voice morphed into the boy’s voice, and he stumbled backwards, horrified. The boy looked up, a confused frown on his face. 

_Tommy._

“Are you okay?” He asked. Jimmy. That was his name, Thomas remembered now. Beside him, a dark-haired woman leaned over, muttering something in Jimmy’s ear. 

“Thomas,” Minho tried again, but Thomas turned around and ran. 

—

He wasn’t sure where his legs were taking him, all he knew was that he was running, and he was running _fast._

Trees flashed by his side as he ran through the woods, the only sounds being his footsteps connecting with grass and stones and his heartbeat pumping in his ears. Every once in a while, he encountered a tree trunk or a tall stone on his path, but he jumped over them without giving it a second thought. 

Thomas didn’t know for how long he ran. Half an hour? An hour, maybe? 

He stopped by the edge of the forest, overlooking a wide field of tall grass and flowers, and fell down on his knees. It took him only seconds to realize he was shaking and sweating all over his body, and he managed to wipe his sweaty palms on his shirt before he felt himself lose consciousness. 

_He was a teenager again. Incredibly young, still, but a teenager nonetheless. He could see himself -- he had that awkward look of a teenage boy who grew too much within a short amount of time._

_He was walking through bright, white hallways, his hair falling into his face with every step. He would probably need a haircut soon. Newt would laugh at him if he let his hair get too long._

_Thomas reached his destination within a matter of minutes, raising his hand to knock at the door. It was oddly quiet in the hallway, and he knew the lights would go out soon. Curfew was one of the many things he hated about living in this place._

_The door opened before he could knock twice and he was met with a young face, grinning widely at him. His eyes were the same dark brown they’d always been, and his hair fell into his face, too, just like the last time he'd seen him._

_“Newt,” Thomas breathed out, feeling a strong wave of relief hit him. “I was worried they’d taken you again.”_

_“Nope, still here,” Newt said, opening the door a little wider to let Thomas in. “They promised they’d stop with the tests for now, because it’s Christmas. Dunno if I believe them, though.”_

_“I wouldn’t,” Thomas mumbled. “Trusting WICKED is probably the stupidest thing you can do.”_

_“Besides sneaking out to meet a friend,” Newt snorted._

_“It was your idea,” Thomas pointed out, trying to be stern, but he felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips. Newt raised his eyebrows._

_“Didn’t think you’d have the guts to actually do it.”_

_“Ouch,” Thomas said, placing a hand over his heart. “Are you questioning my bravery?”_

_“Not questioning it, just saying you don’t usually break rules,” Newt smiled. “I’m glad you did, though. And very proud of you."_

_He faked dramatically wiping away a tear and clapping, but his voice sounded sincere. Thomas, being the idiot he was, instinctively stepped forward and pulled him into a hug._

_“Woah,” Newt chuckled. “What did I do to deserve this?”_

_“Nothing,” Thomas said, burying his face in Newt’s shoulder. “I just think you deserve a hug every once in a while.”_

_Newt hummed, stroking his hair. “That’s alright. I’d like a hug, here and there.”_

_He hugged him back tightly, his chin resting on Thomas’ head. Thomas closed his eyes, relishing the feeling of pure warmth and safety, before Newt’s voice pulled him back to reality._

_“Tommy?”_

_“Hm?” Thomas asked, not moving._

_“You can let go now.”_

_Thomas pulled away, and suddenly, the surroundings changed -- he was no longer in Newt’s tiny room in WCKD, he was in a burning city, cars and buildings exploding all around him, and he was no longer looking at teenage Newt, but an older version of Newt, dark veins all over his face._

_He glanced down at Newt’s chest, where he knew the knife would be, and sure enough, there it was, buried deep into his heart. Newt’s hand fell, and Thomas looked up once again. Newt was still looking at him, his eyes dark and empty, but there was a small smile on his face._

_“You can let go now, Tommy.”_

Thomas woke up and screamed.

**Author's Note:**

> creds to obrienfics on twitter for the idea, im sorry that its so short


End file.
